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  He really wasn’t going to drop this. I spotted more than a few of my classmates covering their smiles behind their syllabi. Fine, two could play this game.

  "Okay, I think I get it," I said. "I feel like this is pointless."

  Markson tipped his head to the side. "Do you? That’s a shame. It will be essential for your careers and domestic life to be able to communicate your needs."

  Liam raised his hand. "I would like to state that I feel I would like to communicate effectively with Jillian."

  "Then why don’t you try again?" Markson suggested.

  I hid my face in my hands as Liam swiveled to face me in his seat. I could feel the eyes of everyone in the class on us.

  "I feel like I’d like to make you waffles in the morning and maybe the morning after, too. I feel strongly I could be convinced to make you waffles for a very long stretch of the foreseeable future," he said.

  The class broke out in a fit of applause. More than a few people whooped their approval of his “I” statements. One girl even yelled, "You can make me waffles anytime!"

  "Now how do you want to respond, Miss…?" Markson trailed off.

  "Nichols," I said. "Okay. I feel like I’m dropping this class." I scooped up my things and made a beeline for the door. This drew some boos, although a few kind souls yelled for me to come back.

  No way was I going to stay there to be humiliated in the name of Interpersonal Communication. I slammed through the doors at the end of the hall and found myself in the building’s entrance when my phone rang. I fished it out of my pocket and, when I saw Tara on the caller ID, decided I was properly worked up to handle a conversation with my mother.

  "Hi, Tara," I said as I answered the call. I could almost hear the wince on the other end when I called her by her first name.

  "Jillian," my mother said, extending my name as though it was a drawn out thought. I often wondered if she was actually puzzling out why she was on the phone with me when she started a conversation this way. "How is the first day?"

  "Fan-fucking-tastic," I snapped.

  “Language, Jillian.”

  I had to disappoint her at least four times every phone call, so I ticked off one mentally.

  I’m not sure why she would care how my day was. Tara had no interest in seeing me graduate from college, and she’d made her feelings on the matter known on multiple occasions.

  She didn’t notice the annoyance I had so carefully displayed in my answer. She never did. Instead, she immediately switched to business mode. "Your father received the bill for tuition. You’re only taking twelve credit hours."

  "For someone who keeps advising me to drop out, I would think you would be thrilled I’m taking a lighter course load this semester," I said as I wedged the phone so I could shove my laptop back in my bag.

  "Your father and I want to know that this isn’t a waste of time," she said.

  "You want to know it isn’t a waste of money," I corrected her.

  "You know what they say about time and money," she said. This was my mother’s idea of a joke but neither of us laughed.

  "If you want, I’ll just get loans," I said. This wasn’t really about money, because my parents were loaded. It was just another instance of Tara attempting to control my life.

  "Don’t be dramatic," she said in a flat voice.

  "You’re the one who called me on my first day of classes to criticize me!" I was really getting it on all sides right now. I could imagine Markson would have a lot to say about my mother’s and my interpersonal communication.

  "I want to know you are taking care of yourself. If you feel you can only handle twelve credit hours, maybe you should consider—"

  "Mom," I cut her off. "I have to get to class. I’ll email you later."

  "Fine." The call ended without an I love you or a talk to you later. Just like every other conversation I’d ever had with Tara.

  Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I jerked around to discover Liam standing behind me.

  "I’m sorry for what happened back there," he said. "I promise if you come back to class that I will defend your honor and tell Markson to bugger off."

  Despite my foul mood, his proficient use of UK slang made me smile. It went well with his accent.

  "A smile!" His face lit up all the way to his bright blue eyes. "Does that mean you accept my apology?"

  "Don’t push it," I muttered.

  "If you don’t come back to class, I will be forced to work with Markson on my communication skills," he warned.

  "That would be a fitting punishment for going along with him," I said as I slung my bag over my shoulder.

  "Or worse yet," Liam said, "I could remain partnerless and be forced to cultivate multiple personalities to effectively learn to communicate and then I would wind up alone and talking to myself."

  "I’m sure one of the other girls will save you from that fate worse than death," I said. "Listen, there’s no way I’m going back in there. It was humiliating."

  I hated to admit this to him, but it was the truth and since I wasn’t going to see him after today, it didn’t matter if I told him. I didn’t bother to add that I’d had my fair share of embarrassing experiences in the classrooms of Olympic State. I really didn’t need my professor to tack on any additional indignities for the sake of higher learning.

  "You made your point. I think you shamed poor Markson. He barely finished going over the syllabus before he let us go," Liam said.

  Good, I thought. At the same time, I gave Liam a defiant shake of my head. "No deal."

  "Okay, let’s compromise," Liam said. "I won’t ask you out again if you come back. It will be strictly academic."

  I took one look at his crooked grin and wondered if he could keep his own promise.

  "I’ll think about it," I said.

  Liam leaned in to whisper in my ear. "Here’s the catch. If you don’t come back to class, I will be forced to sing at your window and write you bad poetry until you do."

  I glanced at his face and realized he was serious.

  "You really do need to work on your communication," I said. "If you’re going to threaten me with bad poetry to get me to talk to you."

  "Every girl’s nightmare?" he asked.

  I’m guessing it was more than a few girls’ fantasy. Not mine though.

  "I’ll see you on Thursday" I said finally.

  If seeing Liam two days a week would cement him firmly into the friend category, I was willing to put up with Markson.

  "Oh, piece of advice?" he called as I pushed open the exit. "Use more ‘I’ statements with your mom."

  I tossed my hair over my shoulder, deciding to ignore him, but I couldn’t help but throw one last look at him as I backed through the door. All he did was wink.

  Chapter Four

  Tuesday nights at Garrett’s were dead except for people dropping in for dinner. The pizzas were from a box, but the food was cheap and we’d gotten into the habit of going every week since we were freshman. The pub boasted a dance floor and a deejay on busy nights. A few people filtered in and out, but we had the place mostly to ourselves.

  Cassie and Jess were busy comparing notes for their courses. Since Cassie was a Public Relations major, she was freaking out over her last required core science course, while Jess promised to help her. As they discussed labs and tests, I thought about my mom and her threat earlier today. Once again, Tara was hinting that she wanted me to drop out and come home. I wasn’t sure it was worth telling them, though. Jess would worry about it, and then she would become unbearable if I was so much as ten minutes late to class. I sat wedged into the corner booth, not saying a word for fifteen minutes before they noticed. Between the scene in Interpersonal Communications and my less than pleasant conversation with my mother, I didn’t feel like talking.

  "How was your communications class?" Cassie finally asked. Whereas I had slipped into pajama pants before heading out with them, Cassie was perfectly polished. Her black hair was tucked in a neat
bun. Her outfit looked like a fashion tutorial from Pinterest, complete with chic suede boots and chunky, handmade jewelry. She looked like she had walked off a runway, not out of a classroom at Olympic State.

  I shook my head. "I’m dropping it."

  "You only have a 12 hour load," Jess reminded me.

  "I can’t stay in the class. The professor humiliated me."

  “Shit, I thought you were taking that with Markson. I heard he was a goddamn cakewalk." Cassie cursed like it was art form. She had managed to make it a required syntactical component.

  I shrugged at her while Jess stayed silent. She had recommended the class after she took it last semester, and now I couldn’t help but wonder if she was trying to tell me something.

  Frank, Garrett’s longest running bartender, slid a combo pizza in front of us. "That’s hot," he warned us.

  On cue, we all busted out, "That’s what she said."

  "You girls staying out of trouble this year?" he asked. Frank was old enough to be our grandfather, and he took the role seriously.

  "It’s too early in the year to determine that," I said to him with a sly smile. He shook his head, muttering under his breath as he headed back to the bar.

  "How did he humiliate you?" Jess asked, grabbing for a slice of pizza.

  "It was just Markson," I admitted, ignoring my own food.

  "Intriguing," Cassie said.

  "Liam was there."

  "Wait, Liam, Liam?" Cassie asked with a squeal.

  "You have not even met Liam," I pointed out. She had no business being this wildly excited by a bad camera pic.

  "Well," Jess said, "she’s about to."

  I followed Jess’s gaze behind us to spot Liam walking into the bar with a few other guys. He was still in a t-shirt and jeans, and I couldn’t help but admire how they hung off his hips. I knew what was under those jeans. My pulse increased just thinking about it, and I could feel heat creeping onto my cheeks. I wasn’t sure why I was so embarrassed. It was hardly the first time I’d run into a guy I had slept with casually.

  "Great Scot! Liam’s hot!" Cassie said in a low voice.

  “Cassie, darling, you’re rhyming.” But I could see how his body would have that effect on her. Liam looked every bit the Scottish Highlander fantasy at the moment—rugged and well-built, but without the kilt or long hair.

  “Call him over,” Cassie begged.

  “No freakin’ way,” I said in a warning tone. “You have a boyfriend.”

  “You don’t,” Jess said.

  I shot her my best withering stare. Ever since Cassie and Jess started seeing their boyfriends, they’d been sneaking plenty of hints about hooking me up with someone. The wicked gleam in Jess’s eyes suggested that she wanted to make this dream a reality. “Markson made an example of us in class today. I don’t need to give Liam any more false hope.”

  “False hope?” Jess said, and her eyes sparkled as she spoke. “Don’t you think you’ve gone a little too far to not expect him to be hopeful?”

  “I swear to God, if every guy I screw is going to expect a relationship, I’m going to have to start an application process,” I muttered.

  Cassie’s and Jess’s eyes grew wide, and my heart sunk into my stomach.

  “He’s right behind me, isn’t he?” I asked.

  They both nodded, discomfort written across their faces.

  “Jess,” Liam said in a cool voice.

  I couldn’t bring myself to turn and face him. He had definitely heard what I just said. I considered crawling under the table, but Garrett’s wasn’t the cleanest establishment and I would probably contract some type of STD.

  “It’s nice to see you,” Jess said as she tried to smile. It came out looking more like a grimace.

  Liam didn’t say anything else, and, a minute later, Cassie and Jess both collapsed against each other, signaling he was safely out of earshot.

  “Ohmigod, awkward!” Cassie exclaimed against Jess’s shoulder.

  “You should have been in class,” I said with a groan. I picked up my pizza and then set it right back down. I suddenly wasn’t very hungry.

  “What exactly happened?” Jess asked, widening her eyes in concern. The ones that made her look like Bambi; they were impossible to resist.

  I related the events of the class with Professor Markson, pausing occasionally to allow them to express their horror. But by the end of my story, I could tell they were both holding back smirks.

  “You two are unbelievable. Show a little moral support, why don’t you?” I said. I hadn’t bothered to fill them in on my phone call with my mother or how Liam had heard half of it. I didn’t like to expose that side of myself to them. Jess worried more than my mother, although her heart was in a much better place.

  “It’s just that we kind of agree with Markson,” Jess admitted.

  I picked a piece of sausage off my slice and threw it at her.

  “No food fights!” Frank yelled from the bar.

  “Nothing gets past him,” Cassie said. She smiled sweetly at him and called out an apology. No one could resist Cassie’s charm, not even nosy old Frank. But Cassie’s easy-going nature also made it hard to get her to take anything seriously. Jess and Cassie were the perfect foils for one another. They both cared, but they displayed it from opposite ends of the friend spectrum.

  “I don’t need my professor getting involved with my love life,” I said.

  “What fucking love life?” Cassie asked and froze. It was a totally un-Cassie-like thing to say, and it stung.

  “I don’t need a boy to feel complete,” I said. “Unlike some.”

  Jess held her hand up. “That is totally unfair. We never make you feel bad for not wanting a boyfriend. You shouldn’t make us feel bad for dating."

  “You made me feel bad this morning,” I reminded her. I reached for my purse and pulled it over my head. “You made me feel bad five minutes ago.” I stood up so quickly that I knocked my chair over. I couldn’t even bend over to pick it up, I was shaking so bad.

  “Dammit, Jills,” Cassie said. “Don’t do this. Calm down. It’s not good for—”

  “Stop,” I commanded her. “Just stop. I’m going home.”

  “Jills, you need to take—” Jess began, but I shot her a look that shut her up.

  I turned on my heel and started toward the door. Unfortunately, going by the door meant that I would have to go by Liam. I hesitated a minute before I lifted my chin and took a deep breath. Olympic State was a small school, and I was bound to run into him, even if I dropped the class. I focused on the door, walking a straight line toward it with quick, purposeful steps. My hands were trembling, and I clenched and unclenched them, trying to control it like I’d been taught in physical therapy.

  “Bye, hen,” Liam called, the farewell coated in an especially thick Scottish brogue. I knew he was doing it to get a rise out of me. He probably wanted to get back at me for what I’d said earlier, but I hadn’t been talking to him then, so he had no right to be mad now.

  I rounded on him and held up one shaky finger. “I am not a chicken. I am not your chicken. So take your cock somewhere else.”

  One of Liam’s friends smacked him on the shoulder, laughing, until he realized that neither Liam or I were joking.

  “Tastes like chicken,” another quipped beside him, but Liam and I were frozen in a mutual glare.

  I pushed open the door and stepped into the night air. It was already cool in the September evenings in the Pacific Northwest, and the cold air hit my eyes, stinging them as tears began to pool. I’d known Jess and Cassie wanted to set me up when they started dropping hints last school year. Of course, they had been more subtle about it then.

  “Jillian,” Liam called, following me outside. “I promise that I’m not interested in applying to be your fling. I’m on a student visa, and I’m afraid I’m not allowed to work full-time jobs.”

  His words were cold and hard, containing none of the charm and silliness he’d shown me this morn
ing or after class. I swallowed hard and nodded, walking away from him. He continued after me, catching up to walk beside me.

  “You might think—” he began before he cut himself off.

  I tried to hide my face, so he wouldn’t see my tears. I couldn’t think of anyone else I wanted to see me cry less. Especially because I didn’t want Liam to think that these were tears over him. These were about much, much more than our stupid one-night stand.

  “I didn’t mean to make you cry,” he said quietly.

  “I’m not crying over you,” I screamed at him, which only made me cry harder. “I’m crying because my best friends think I’m a loser, and my mom wants me to drop out of college, and I can’t afford to pay my own tuition if her and my dad decide they won’t pay anymore.”

  Liam didn’t say anything, so I kept going, unable to control the trembling in my hands. It spread up from my wrists until tremors rolled through my arms. “Which, by the way, means that my parents think I’m a loser, too. And Professor Markson thinks I’m so broken that I should be a class project, and you—" I pointed at him "—keep calling me chicken.”

  The tears fell in fat drops down my cheeks, but my hands shook so badly that I couldn’t even wipe them away.

  “Are you cold?” Liam asked. The anger had melted from his voice.

  “I’m fine.” I didn’t want his sympathy, not after I’d been such a bitch to him earlier.

  “You’re shaking,” he accused.

  I might have just vomited all my problems onto him, but this was one subject I wasn’t going to touch. Instead, I quickened my pace in the hope that he would give up and leave me alone.

  Liam reached out and caught my hand, which hurt, given the attack I was having. It forced me to stop and shake him off. But he took the opportunity to pull me into his arms, wrapping his arms tightly around me. I wanted to push him away, but my hands were too weak, so I settled against his chest, slowly feeling my body relax back to normal. Our breathing shifted, each inhale and exhale coming at the same time.